Cobblestones 


THE  ALFRED  A.  KNOPF  PUBLICATION 
PRIZE  WAS  OFFERED  BY  MR.  ALFRED  A. 
KNOPF  OF  THE  CLASS  OF  IQI2  COLUM 
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WON  THE  AWARD  FOR  1921,  IS  THE 
FIRST  TO  SUCCEED  IN  THIS  COMPETI 
TION. 


Cobblestones 


by 
David    Sentner 


New  York 

Alfred  •  A  •  Knopf 

1921 


":  COPYRIGHT,  1921,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 


PBINTED  IN   THK   UNITED   STATES    O!  AMERICA 


,r 


Inscribed 

to 
Mary  Southerland  Steele 


4G8753 


CONTENTS 

The  Valley  of  Lost  Steps,  9 

The  Bricklayer,  1 1 

Aristocracy,  12 

Mrs.  Potts  Ascends,  13 

I  have  a  Rendezvous  With  Life,   14 

Tree  in  a  Canyon,   16 

The  Death  of  Pan,   17 

Life  of  a  City,  18 

The  Devil  Visits  Broadway,  19 

A  Lilt.  20 

A  Rumbling,   21 

A  Thought,  22 

Day  of  Judgment,   23 

Two  Voices,  24 

The  Subway  Guard,  25 

Blasphemy,   26 

Neighbors,  27 

Geographically  Speaking,  28 

Unto  The  End,  30 

Closing  of  the  Grill,  31 

Wall    Street,    32 

The  Web  of  Life,   33 

Out  of  the  Line,  34 

Khaki  and  Gold,  35 

The  Citation,  37 

Economics,  38 

Taps,  39 

Logs,  40 

A  Blue  Law,  41 

Among  the  Ravine,  42 

The  Revelation,  43 


CONTENTS 

A  Mother,  44 

Woman,  45 

A  Rose,  46 

The  Hobo  and  the  Dream  Child,  47 

As  Seen  From  the  Stars,  49 

The  Ritual,  50 

Three  Wishes,  51 

The  Weather,  52 

The  Arch-Murderer,  53 

A  Silly  Lad,  54 

The  Cynic,  55 

On  the  Train,  56 

Evolution,  57 

Philosophy,  58 

A  Cynogram,  59 

Growing-Pains,  60 

Sanctuary,  61 

The  Man  Who  Lived  in  Jail,  62 

Tracks,  75 

The  Surf,  76 

Efficiency,  77 

Balance,   79 

Usage,  80 

Headings,  81 

Gifts,  82 

Intelligence,  83 

Sky  in  a  City,  84 

The  Pervert,  85 

The  Tattler,  86 

Tactics,  87 

Birdlings,  89 

The  Smiths,  90 


The  Valley  of  Lost  Steps 

I  stood  nigh  the  Valley  of  Steps  That  Are  Lost 
And  listened  to  echoes  that  come  and  go 
Like  breezes  thru  the  fingers  of  the  trees. 

The  tiny  step  of  a  toddling  child 

Who  knew  not  the  path  ahead; 

The  jerky  beat  of  a  vigorous  youth 

Who  hustled  toward  quick  success; 

The  clump  and  thump  of  an  army  boot 

Which  tramped  the  long,  long  one-way  road 

To  the  parapet  in  France; 

The  clodding  plod  of  a  routine  man 

Who  followed  the  rut  of  environment; 

The  mincing  patter  of  debutante 

Down  the  Aisle  of  Life 

With  its  rosy  hedges; 

The  weary,  dreary  shuffle  of  woman 

Who  trudged  the  sands  of  a  household  wilderness. 

But  as  they  neared  the  Valley  of  Lost  Steps 
Their  cadences  were  joined 
In  one  vast  symphony 

[9] 


As  if  it  were  but  one  . 

/vnd  >:>rJy  one 

Who  trod  in  dignity  deliberate 

Toward  the  Valley  where  bare  feet 

Dance  noiselessly  on  velvet  grass. 


10 


The  Bricklayer 

I  have  been  laying  bricks 

Each  upon  its  brother 

For  days   and  months   and  years 

And  it  is  irksome 

As  sifting  the  ashes  of  Hell. 

I  remember  when  I  was  a  child 

I  played  with  colored  blocks 

Untiringly 

And  found  it  good. 


Aristocracy 

An  oyster  in  an  oyster-bed 

Where  every  oyster  held  a  pearl 

Swallowed  a  diamond. 

He  bragged  about  his  wealth 

Spouting  at  his  fellows 

Who  could  boast  only  of  pearl. 

But  there  came  a  day 

When  he  was  scooped  up 

Pried  apart  and  robbed 

Of  both  his  diamond  and  his  pearl, 

Then  scornfully  thrown  back 

Into  the  muddy  depth, 

Maimed  and  mangled. 

Yet  this  proud  oyster 

Became  King  of  the  Oysters. 

For  was  it  not  distinction 

To  be  pearlless 

In  a  colony 

Of  pearl-oysters? 


[12] 


Mrs.  Potts  Ascends 

Mrs.  Potts  the  Social  Climber 
Dreamed  she  made  ascent  to  Heaven 
Broke  into  the  Inner  Circle 
Gave  a  party  to  the  Angels 
All  the  Notables  attended. 

Decked  in  halo  made  of  moonbeams 
Wore  her  wings  of  solid  star-dust 
Streaked  with  sky  and  rosy  sunset 
Even  God  remarked  with  fervour, 
"Mrs.  Potts,  you  look  superb." 


[13] 


I  Have  a  Rendezvous 
with  Life 

I  have  a  rendezvous  with  Life 
That  travels  fast  as  shooting  star 
And  stops  the  tick  of  clock. 

I  have  a  rendezvous  with  Life 

Within  a  cluttered  city, 

Where  ragged  elbows 

Rub  with  elbows  of  fine  texture, 

Where  hearts  beat  high  and  low 

With  joy  and  sorrow, 

Where  everybody  counts  and  counts. 

I  have  a  rendezvous  with  Life 

Within  a  drawing  room, 

Where  tinkle  teacups  and  small  talk, 

Where  bosoms  are  half-naked 

And  souls  are  fully  veiled, 

Where  teeth  are  bared  in  sweetest  smile, 

Where  fox  is  sheep  and  sheep  is  fox, 

Beneath  the  glistening  crystal  lights. 

[14] 


I   have   a   rendezvous   with   Life 

Within  a  whirring  factory, 

Where  machines  run  men, 

Where  toys  and  delicacies 

Are  flavored  with  sweat  and  toil, 

Where  brawn  is  built  and  brain  is  numbed. 

I  have  a  rendezvous  with  Life 

Within  a  lonely  farmhouse, 

Where  the  breeze  is  clean 

And  men  and  grain  attain  full  growth, 

Where  God  is  on  four  sides  and  by  the  hearth, 

Where  women  gossip  openly 

And  help  each  other  at  harvest  time 

No  matter  what  space  of  sky 

There  be  between  each  farm. 


Tree  in  a  Canyon 

I  love  to  walk 

Through  a  certain  city  canyon 

Flanked  by  cliffs  of  dwellings  drab 

Where  grows  a  tree 

On  the  outer  sidewalk. 

I  do  not  know  the  name  of  the  tree 
For  I  am  city-bred. 


[16] 


The  Death  of  Pan 

On  excellent  authority 

I've  heard  of  how  Pan  died. 

It  seems  that  walking  in  his  sleep 

His   Majesty   awoke 

To  find  himself 

Upon  a  Subway  station. 

He  joined  the  dance 

Thinking  it  was  some  frolicking 

Of  city  satyrs. 


[17] 


Life  of  a  City 


Numbers  and  prices  of  things- 
Babies  and  married  couples — 
Old  ladies  and  sometimes  old  men — 
Churches,  lodging  houses,  theatres, 
Slums  and  places  to  eat — 
The  waiting  for  the  man  one  step  ahead 
To  drop  dead. 

Underneath  it  all 

A  series  of  glows  and  hurts 

And  equilibriums 

That  only  the  person  knows 

But  never  shows  completely. 


[18] 


The  Devil  Visits  Broadway 

In  tattered  garb  of  beggar  came  the  Devil 
To  scorch  the  blackish  mark  upon  the  soul 
Of  mortals  in  the  City  of  Cold  Hearts. 

And  as  he  walked  the  ill-famed  street, 
A  ragged  urchin  offered  him 
His  only  crust  of  bread. 

In  rage  the  Devil  melted  back  to  Hell. 


[19] 


A  Lilt 

I  grasped  the  greasy  subway  strap 
And  read  the  lurid  advertisements 
I  chewed  my  gum  voraciously 
Inhaled  strange  fumes  pugnaciously. 
I  heard  the  grating  of  the  wheels 
And  felt  that  the  chords 
Of  my  city  soul 
Were  in  perfect  tune. 


[20] 


A  Rumbling 

I  thought  I  heard  the  World 
Creaking  and  groaning  on  its  axis. 
I  looked  out  from  my  window 
And  saw  a  lusty  steamroller 
'Rattling  slowly  on  its  way 
Towards    the    destination 
Which  it  was  sure  to  reach 
In  due  time. 


[21] 


A  Thought 


Like  a  brilliant  Thought 
That  rises  from  its  fellows 
A  bright  toy-balloon 
Broke  from  a  cluster. 

Lifted  by   a   breeze 

It  soared  above  white  dwellings 

To  sink  into  a  dingy  alley. 

A  grimy  child 

Aglow  at  the  beauty  of  its  roundness 

Greedily  grasped  the  balloon 

And  pressed  it  to  his  narrow  chest. 

A  vagrant  pin 
Pierced  the  rubber  bubble 
But  the  child  kept  the  remnant 
Prizing  it  for  its  color. 


[,22] 


Day  of  Judgment 

The  next   day  was   to  be 

The  Day  of  Judgment 

And  plans  were  made 

For  a  monstrous  brass  band. 

The   papers    teemed 

With  the  controversy  being  waged 

As  to  which  churchman  would  make 

The  welcoming  address 

To  the  great  Jehovah. 

The  people   of  the   slums 
Were  also  excited 
And  ate  an  extra  piece 
Of  bread  for   supper. 


[23] 


Two  Voices 

A  famous  singer  lay 

At  the  portal  of  Death. 

Bulletins  issued  hourly 

By  a  staff  of  specialists 

Were  read  by  an  anxious  world 

Shocked  at  the  thought 

Of  losing  their  beloved  song-bird- 

And  the  price  of  his 

Phonograph    records  rose. 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  city 
In  a  murky  room 
A  foreign  woman  moaned  alone 
Over  her  little  boy  that  was — 
"Never  no  more  shall  I  hear 
My  dear  bambino's  voice." 


[24] 


The  Subway  Guard 

Pasty-faced  and  weary-eyed 

He  sealed  the  coach 

With  load  of  human  cattle. 

I  shouted  him,  "What  station  next?" 
But  twinkling  thought  inquired  me, 
"What  was  he  the  Life  Before?" 

He  howled  me  the  station's  name 
But  my  sub-conscious  ear  received, 
"I  was  an  eagle." 


Blasphemy 


Overhead  the  shamefaced  stars 
Softly  scan  the  street  below 
Where  the  shops  in  splendour  sparkle, 
Where  the  signs  of  theatres  dazzle, 
As  along  the  gleaming  highway 
Head-lights  come  and  tail-lights  go. 

Timidly  the  Dawn  creeps  in 
And  the  blasphemed  Sun  mounts  high 
Beating   vainly   on    the   windows 
Of  tall  buildings  where  the  workers 
'Count  the  debits  and  the  credits 
Under  lamps  with  greenish  shades. 


[26] 


Neighbors 

For  years  I  have  lived 

In  an  edifice  of  stone 

But  never  met  my  neighbor; 

Yet  we  may  lie 

Side  by  side 

Forever. 


[27] 


Geographically  Speaking 

NORTH— 

There  are  as  many  baby-carriages 
Along  St.  Nicholas  Avenue 
As  there  are  automobiles 
Upon  Fifth  Avenue. 

SOUTH- 

Ferries,  commuters,  shrieks  from  peanut-stands, 
And  the  breezes  from  the  Bay — 
Where  one  can  stand  on  the  Battery  wall 
And  see  the  Statue  and  bigger  things. 

EAST— 

At  the  lower  end, 

Scarcely  enough  room  to  live  decently; 

At  the  upper  end, 

Too  much  room  to  live  democratically. 

WEST— 

Giving  birth  to  the  "Upper  West  Side," 
Which  covers  a  multitude  of  rents; 
Far  below  is  Greenwich  Village, 
[28] 


The  aromatic  section  of  Sixth  Avenue  ware- 

houses, 

And  the  financial  district 
With  its  nation-wide  tentacles. 

A  New  Yorker  is  like  a  chameleon 
Camping  upon  a  piece  of  plaid. 


[29] 


Unto  the  End 

Twenty-four  hours  to  live 

As  the  end  of  the  world  is  proclaimed. 

The  millionaire  scatters  his  gold — 
The  lawyer  opens  the  jails— 
The  minister  goes  to  a  dance — 
The  atheist  starts  in  to  pray— 
While  the  Poet  keeps  on  trading — trading- 
Old  dreams  for  new. 


[30] 


Closing  the  Grill 

Crystal  chandeliers  out-gleaming  the  stars — 
Soft  pink  shades  casting  a  mellow  light— 
Napery,  white  as  snow  on  a  roof— 
Chinaware,  dainty  as  a  baby's  birthday  ring. 

Sleek-haired  men  with  females 
Of  silks,  satins  and  cosmetics 
Patter  correctly  over  the  parquet  floor 
Through   the   mirrored   doorway. 

Waiters'  imitation  shirt-bosoms  are  displaced 
As  tables  are  stripped 
Exposing  the  pine  wood 
Topped  by  burlap. 


[31] 


Wall  Street 

A  whirling  dervish 

In  the  center 

Of  a  moving  merry-go-round 

About  which  vast  crowds  mill 

While  the  world 

Twirls  upon  its  axis. 


The  Web  of  Life 

Life  in  a  dug-out  is  a  gray  monotony 

And  trifles  grow  to  great  importance. 

One  night  we  spied  a  spider 

Centered  in  his  flimsy,  fine-spun  web. 

"Oh  let  the  poor  dumb  devil  be,"  one  lad  put  in. 

"Let's  clean  him  out  and  wipe  the  web," 

Another  doughboy  said. 

"And  if  we  do,  he'll  only  spin  again;" 

At  which  I  deftly  dealt  a  blow 

With  army  mitten 

That  sent  the  bug 

Into  the  Big  Beyond  of  Insects. 

Next  dawn  a  leaden  load 

Wiped  out  our  dirty  dug-out 

Which  we  were  forced  to  build  again. 


[33] 


Out  of  the  Line 

Wild  growths  of  beard-^— 

Uniforms  in  shreds — 

Shoes  clotted  with  gobs  of  mud. 

Eyes  droop  wearily, 
Suddenly  blink  hysterically, 
And  then  are  set  in  a  stare, 
As  if  we  saw  the  horrible  thing 
All  over  again. 

Lines  that  would  take  Nature 

Years  to  produce, 

Seam  the  region 

About  the  forehead,  eyes  and  mouth. 

Men  who  have  received  the  highest  culture 

That  civilization  can  give, 

Wear  a  snarling,  savage,  demented  expression, 

Is   it  over? 

How  is  it  we  live? 

And  all  the  gang? 

So  many  faces  are  missing. 

So  cold — yet  just  from  Hell. 

[34] 


Khaki  and  Gold 

Upon  an  upland  region  of  fair  France 
A  field  of  gold  and  khaki  lay  outspread. 
Clusters  of  pure  unassuming  daisies — 
Each  flower  matched  by  tawny  tunic'd  youth. 
And  as  they  sprawled  upon  the  dewy  grass 
The  signal  softly  came  for  "jumping  off." 
All  eagerly  the  lads  sprang  to  their  feet; 
There  came  a  lull  to  harmonize  the  line. 
A  lean  and  dour  Yank  stooped  low  and  plucked 
A  handful  of  sweet  daisies  from  their  home, 
And  thrust  them  in  the  muzzle  of  his  gun 
And  garlanded  his  helmet  with  some  more, 
Inspiring  his  buddies  to  the  same. 
"Let's  give  'em  daisies!"  rasped  an  Easterner. 
"And  Hell !"  roared  out  a  boy  from  the  far  West. 
A  long,  lithe  line  swept  o'er  the  open  field 
To  music  of  the  thunderous  barrage; 
And  every  here  and  there  a  gap  was  shown 
With  daisy  showers  as  the  lads  plunged  down. 
What   scattering  of  gold   and  mud   and  blood! 
Quite  limp  these  blessed  flowers  strewed  the 

ground. 
Where  but  before  the  wind  and  sun  had  made 

[35] 


Them  palpitate  in  youthful  joy  of  life, 

Now  they  lay  quiet  in  eternal  sleep. 

With  petals  stripped  from  off  their  graceful  stems 

Yet  there  they  seemed  to  rest  in  peace  upon 

The  ground  from  which  the  enemy  had  fled. 


r.36] 


The  Citation 

Hungry  as  a  Hun 

And  nervous  as  a  tent 

Taut  in  the  wind 

The   doughboy  stood 

While    a   medal 

Was  pinned  upon  his  breast 

Feeling  a  speech  required 

He  mumbled: 

"You  can't  eat  it 

"And  you  can't  smoke  it." 

Not  understanding  English 

As  we  Americans  speak  it 

The  French  officer  said; 

"Thus  are  brave  soldiers 

Rewarded!" 


[37] 


Economics 

In  France 

They  fed  the  horses  daily 

While  at  times  we  doughboys  starved. 

In  the  factory 

We  were  taught  the  value 

Of  machinery 

And  how  inefficient  it  was 

To   get   mangled. 

I  wonder  if  in  Hell 

They'll  tell  us 

To  be  careful  of  the  coal. 


[38] 


Taps 


(An  accompaniment) 

Soldier's  sweet — song  of  sleep- 
Long  he'll  lie  with  this  last  lullabye — 
Sound  the  notes — strong  and  pure — 
So  they  soar  with  his  soul  to  the  sky— 


[391 


Logs 


Two  logs  met  in  a  fire-place; 

Each  fell  in  love  at  first  touch. 

"Will  you  lean  on  me  forever?" 

Said  the  hard  cedar  wood. 

"Nothing  shall  part  us!" 

Swore  the  soft  pine  wood. 

And  their  flame  of  love 

Ascended  as  they  kissed, 

But  soon  the  fire  dwindled  unto  ashes 

And  their  love  lay  cold  upon  the  hearth. 


[40] 


A  Blue  Law 

One  time  in  Bolshevikia 
There  was  a  dreadful  drop 
In  church  attendance. 
So  a  law  was  passed 
Charging  exorbitant  prices 
For  pew  reservations. 
From  then  on 

The   temples   were   thronged 
And   people    boasted 
Of  their   frequent  trips 
To  church. 


[41] 


Among  the  Ravine 

Tripping  lightly  along 

The  narrow,  rocky  ravine 

That  leads  up  to  Success, 

Love  spied  Gold 

Plodding  sternly  ahead. 

She  tried  to  pass 

And  then  a  struggle  followed, 

The  glint  in  the  eyes  of  Gold 

Bothered  Love — 

So  she  was  overcome. 


[42] 


The  Revelation 

In  the  blessed  Beyond 

The  Soul  of  a  husband 

Met  the  Soul  of  his  wife 

And  said, 

"I  never  knew  you  were  so  beautiful." 


[43] 


A  Mother 

She  nursed  him — 
She  taught  him — 
She  worked  for  him — 
She  visited  him  in  prison. 
But  he  had  broken  both 
The  law  of  God  and  man 
And  died  for  it. 
She  cried  for  him — 
Then  went  to  church  for  him. 


[44] 


Woman 

A  super  scientist  placed 
In  his  crucible 
Vanity  and  Virtue 
Mixed  with  Temperance 
Hoping  to  produce 
A  woman. 

Many,  many  times  he  tried 
But  failed  and  finally 
Gave  up  in  deep  despair. 
Success  awaited  him 
If  he  had  thought 
Of  dropping  in  a  grain 
Of  Love. 


[45] 


A  Rose 

Beneath  the  sun's  caresses 

Bloomed  the  rose 

Until  'twas  plucked  and  kissed 

By  one  whose  red,  red  lips 

Shamed  the  rose  into  a  bloodless  lily, 

From  amorous  embrace  that  night 
The  rose  was  crushed  to  death. 


[46] 


The  Hobo  and  the 
Dream  Child 

In  a  box-car  on  a  siding 

Sat  the  hobo 

Cuddling  a  puny  fire 

Made  from  straw. 

The  Dream  Child  toddled  up 

In  shivering  rags  and  said: 

"I  cannot  find  a  shelter." 

The  hobo  wrapped  it 

In  a  burlap  bag 

And  bade  it  curl 

Beside  the  smoky  flame, 

Feeding  the  blaze 

With  the  remaining  straw 

Which  formed  his  bed. 

The  Dream  Child  told  him 

Of  its  coming  from 

A  place  in  which  the  gold 

Was  plentiful  as  water 

And  gushed  through  iron  pipes 

For  use  by  all 

Who  loved  its  beauty. 

The  hobo  packed  the  Dream  Child  off 

[47] 


On  a  rumbling  fast  freight 

Bound   for   its   distant   country. 

He  went  back  to  the  ashes 

Of  his  straw  fire  and  wondered 

Why  there  wasn't  straw  enough  in  the  world 

For  everybody's  fire. 


[48] 


As  Seen  from  the  Stars 

It  was  in  the  School  of  the  Stars 

Where  all  the  little  bright  ones 

Were  learning  psychology  from  a  scholar. 

"Instinctive  actions  are  displayed," 

Said  the  High-Light, 

l'In   their  purest   form 

By  animals  not  very  high 

In   the    scale    of   intelligence. 

Among  the  mortals 

The  men  become  blind  and  deaf 

To  all  other  impressions 

As  they  follow  the  trail  of  gold." 


[49] 


The  Ritual 

When  he  was  baptized — 
Red-faced  and  sticky 
As  a  ball  of  candy 
They  said: 
"Doesn't  he  look  lovely." 

When  he  was  married — 
His  evening  coat  askew 
And  nervous  as  a  flea 
They  said: 
"Doesn't  he  look  lovely." 

When  he  lay  in  his  casket — 

Pale   and  wasted 

Like    a   washed-out   painting 

They  said: 

"Doesn't  he  look  lovely." 


[50] 


Three  Wishes 

If  I  had  three  wishes  to  use 

To  shave  the  world  of  its  sharp  edges, 

First,  I  would  wish 

That  everyone  had  a  sense  of  humor — 

And  secondly  I'd  wish 

That  my  first  wish  would  bear  good  fruit; 

And  with  my  last 

I'd  wish  for  three  more  wishes 

So  to  wish  what  I  had  wished  before — 

All  over  again. 

And  thus  I'd  wish  my  life  away 

And  die  in  laughter. 


[51] 


The  Weather 

He  felt  that  the  Sun 

Was  a  glorious  flame 

And  the  Air  that  he  breathed 

Was  exquisite  perfume 

And  Life  was  very  good  after  all ; 

So  he  said  to  his  friend, 

"Isn't  it  a  nice  day?" 


[52] 


The  Arch-Murderer 

An  arch-murderer  slit  the  throat 

Of  every  lawyer. 

When  brought  before  the  bar 

He  pleaded  his  own  case 

And  drew  a  sentence 

Of  thirty  days  in  jail. 


[53] 


A  Silly  Lad 

'"Cause  everybody  loves  and  smiles 

"And  gives  at  Christmas  time 

"Why  cannot  every  day  be  Christmas,  Dad?" 

"Because  a  man  must  work  and  fight 
"To  earn  a  lot  of  money 
"For  next  Christmas,  Son." 

"Well,  if  a  man  stopped 
"Making  lots  of  money 
"Wouldn't  every  day  be  Christmas?" 

"Now,  don't  be  silly,  little  man, 
"When  you  grow  up  you'll  understand 
"Why  every  day  cannot  be  Christmas." 


[54] 


The  Cynic 

"There  is  no  God 

"There  is  no  Love 

"And  man  is  made  of  clay." 

The  youthful  Cynic 

Spoke  and  smiled 

Like  a  garden  of  golden  sunbeams. 

And  then  I  knew 

He  was  no  Cynic. 


[55] 


On  the  Train 

I  saw  an  oak 

Sturdy  and  strong 

And  said  to  myself, 

"Ah!  that  is  man!" 

I  glimpsed  a  bird  flying 

Swift  and  sure 

And  thought  again  of  man. 

My  brother  commuter 

Turned  to  me  and  said; 

"Hope  the  train's  on  time; 

I've  been  late  so  much 

The  last  few  days 

I'm  ashamed  to  look  the  boss  in  the  face." 


[56] 


Evolution 

A  fashionable  man 
Loved  a  maiden  of  a  land 
Quite  uncivilized. 

He  made  the  maid  his  wife 
And  he  taught  her  all  the  life 
That  was  civilized. 

In  a  very  little  while 
She  adopted  all  the  style 
That  was  civilized. 

From  the  diamonds  on  her  ears 
Or  the  brooch  upon  her  breast 
And  the  load  of  heavy  rings — 
No  one  ever  could  have  guessed 
That  once  she  was 
Uncivilized. 


[57] 


Philosophy 

I  sat  a  siege 

With  a  group  of  philosophers 

And  at  the  finish 

Realized 

How  practical  a  person 

A  savage  is. 


158] 


A  Cynogram 

The  unknown  Weaver  works 

A  warp  of  joy 

And  woof  of  sorrow. 

At  different  times  it  is 

A  radiant  rainbow, 

A  Scotch  plaid, 

Or  a  block  of  sombre  black. 

This  Cloth  of  Life 

Contains  few  strands 

That  we,  ourselves,  insert; 

Yet  we  must  wear  it. 


[59] 


Growing-Pains 

To  reach  the  prime 

Of  Eternity 

Life's  children  all  must  suffer 

Growing-pains 

Which  we  call 

Death. 


[60] 


Sanctuary 

In  a  temple  of  worship 

I  sat  and  waited  for  the  ceremony 

Of  brotherhood  to  begin. 

A  lumbering  ox  of  a  person 

In  entering  the  pew 

Settled  his  foot  upon  my  own. 

If  it  had  not  been  the  House  of  the  Lord 

I  would  have  killed  the  lout. 


[61] 


The  Man  Who  Lived  in  Jail 

Ninety  miles  south  of  the  Rio  Grande 

Lies  Santa  Natalia 

Past  the  waste  of  mesquite  and  nopal 

Tucked  in  the  valley  of  Las  Huitlacoches 

With  its  charm  of  sunny,  restful  remoteness. 

The  stress  and  scuffle  of  Anglo-Saxon  America 

Seems  like  a  dream  of  another  world 

As  one  yields  to  the  carefree  atmosphere 

Of  the  land  of  yesterday 

And  the  to-morrow  that  never  comes. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  tiny,  lonely  oasis 
Are  a  kindly,  simple  folk, 
Unspoiled  by  commercialism 
And  untouched  by  the  ebb  and  flow 
Of  Mexico's  recurrent  civil  wars. 
There  is  a  wealth  of  pasturage 
For  their  cattle,  sheep  and  goats, 
And  a  fertile  soil  that  yields 
Rich  crops  of  corn  and  sugar  cane. 

The  government  is  the  comandante 
And  a  somnolent  garrison  of  perhaps  a  dozen 
soldiers 

[62] 


Whose  arms  are  single-shot  Remingtons 

And  relic  Mausers   from   the   Spanish-American 

war. 

Enemy  parties  of  guerrillas 
Leave  them  amiably  indifferent; 
They  are  quite  as  willing  to  shout  "viva" 
For  one  side  as  for  the  other. 

I  learned  there  was  but  one  soul  in  the  hamlet 
Who  spoke  English — 
And  he  was  in  jail. 

I  strolled  down  the  ragged  trail 

And  came  to  an  adobe  building 

Somewhat  larger  than  the  ordinary  dwelling, 

In  the  shade  of  which  was  sprawled 

A  motley  group  of  soldiers; 

I  asked  one  the  location  of  the  jail. 

"You  are  looking  at  it,  brother," 
Said  he  in  excellent  American. 

"Are  you  from  the  States?"  I  asked, 
Puzzled  over  his  swarthy  complexion. 
"I  am  half  Mexican,  born  in  Santa  Natalia; 
I  have  lived  some  years  in  New  York; 
I  am  here  because  I  wish  to  be." 

[63] 


He  was  not  over  thirty-five 

But  his  eyes  showed  centuries  of  something; 

Slender,  and  with  the  fingers  of  a  pianist, 

He  was  not  of  the  adventurer  type. 

His  face  seemed  strangely  familiar 

And  I  felt  that  I  had  met  him 

Somewhere  in  the  past. 

"Are  you  the  warden?" 

"No,"  he  answered  after  a  thoughtful  pause; 

"I  am  the  star  prisoner; 

After  New  York  was  through  with  me 

I  came  to  Santa  Natalia; 

One  night  I  was  drinking  in  the  cantina 

And  had  a  row  with  a  man 

Who  was  something  in  the  government. 

They  put  me  in  here  and  forgot  about  me ; 

That  was  two  years  ago. 

"I  have  it  very  easy; 

There  is  nothing  to  do 

But  eat,  sleep,  and  enjoy  myself. 

When  I  want  a  little  paseo, 

They  give  me  a  guard  to  take  me  out; 

I  drift  around  the  town 

And  people  give  me 

All  the  eats  and  cigarettes  I  need. 

[64] 


The  comandante  and  the  priest 
Get  books  for  me  to  read. 

"Sometimes  when  I  am  lucky  with  the  dice 

We  put  on  a  little  show  at  the  cantina ; 

Then  they  send  another  guard 

To  bring  us  both  back  home. 

Nobody  cares,  because  what  is  the  use?" 

Manuel,  he  was  called, 
Insisting  that  he  had  forgotten 
His  last  name. 

After  the  strife  and  turmoil  of  New  York 
This  passive  village  soothed  the  ragged  nerves. 
I  could  understand  Manuel — 
In  Mexico  there  is  no  to-morrow. 

One  morning  I  idly  watched  a  burro 

Who  roused  himself  occasionally 

To  nibble  at  the  mesquite  leaves. 

Sleepy  chickens  taking  a  sun  and  dust  bath, 

Expressed  their  contentment  by  faint  croonings. 

Two  children  naively  unaware  of  their  nakedness, 

Played  in  the  shade,  building  little  sand  houses, 

And  trying  to  entice  a  dog  to  play  with  them ; 

Finally  they  tired  of  play 

And  stretched  out  to  sleep  beside  their  dog. 

[65] 


The  hotel-front  was  a  cascade 

Of  creeping  vines  and  flowers. 

There  was  no  sign  of  life 

Save  the  fluttering  of  brilliant  butterflies, 

The  whirring  of  a  hummingbird, 

And  the  drowsy  droning  of  a  bumblebee. 

Over  the  dull,  twisting  trail  of  yellow, 

A  distant  cloud  of  dust  arose. 

"Best  come  inside,  Senor. 

I  do  not  know  who  is  coming.     It  may  be  .  . 

The  voice  of  Trujillo,  the  inn-keeper, 

Melted  into  his  heavy  breathing. 

I  entered; 

The  entire  family  was  within 

And  my  host  was  barring  the  heavy  door.' 

The  windows  with  their  cemented  iron  bars 

Threw  shadows  around  the  room. 

In  the  distance  sounded  a  crisp  crackling; 
From  the  juzgado 

Came  the  sharp,  biting  reports  of  Mausers 
And  heavier  punctuations  of  old  Remingtons 
In  a  lively  fusillade. 
The  firing  increased  in  volume 
And  then  it  suddenly  ceased. 
I  heard  an  outbreak  of  falsetto  Indian  yells; 
A  Trujillo  youngster  peering  from  the  window 

[66] 


Called  to  his  father  that  the  garrison  had 
surrendered. 

Outside,  the  victors  were  riding 

Toward  the  fallen  fortress. 

They  were  a  fierce-faced  group  of  thirty. 

What  they  lacked  in  uniformity  of  dress, 

They  made  up  in  variety  of  weapons. 

The  color-bearer  was  an  Indian  girl 

With  eyes  that  pranced 

Like  a  pair  of  jet  black  steeds. 

The  comandante  and  the  guerrilla  chief 

Bartered  bows  and  compliments. 

The  latter  made  a  grandiloquent  address 

Filled  with  such  words  as  "patriotism" 

And  "honor"  and  "civilization" 

In  which  he  granted  amnesty  complete 

To  all  of  Santa  Natalia. 

The  garrison  promptly  swore  allegiance 

To  the  new  government 

And  the  comandante  philosophically 

Went  home  for  his  afternoon  siesta. 

A  few  evenings  afterward 
I  listened  to  the  unexcited  gossip 
In  the  Cafe  of  the  Little  Drop  of  Water. 

[67] 


In  stumbled  Manuel  as  tipsy  as  a  top, 
With  desperate  eyes  and  lips  compressed; 
Thrusting  his  head  upon  his  folded  arms, 
He  wore  the  sign  of  dull  despondency. 

"Homesick?"  I  soothingly  said. 

"Homeless  is  a  better  word,"  he  huskily  replied. 

"Where  is  your  guard?" 

"No  more  guard — no  more  jail,"  he  sadly  said. 
"Garcia,   the  head  of  the  new  government 
A  few  days  back  told  me  that  I  was  free; 
He  wanted  me  to  be  the  comandante. 
I  begged  him  to  inform  me  of  my  crime, 
That  he  should  make  me  leave  my  jail. 
He  waved  his  arms  and  swore 
That  never  would  he  confine 
One  of  the  country's  patriots." 

"Were  you  so  fond  of  the  carcel?" 

He  wanly  smiled  and  with  a  supercilious  touch 
As  the  sky  might  look  at  a  grain  of  sand. 
"What  more  could  a  man  desire? 
All  sorts  of  leisure  and  no  responsibility — 
No  pleasure-loving  woman 

[68] 


To  turn  a  man  into  a  routine  rat; 
Nor  is  there  any  subway 
To  crush  the  soul  of  a  man 
Into  a  paltry  pellet." 

I  said  encouragingly: 

"Where  there's  a  will  there's  a  jail." 

"I've  been  drunk  as  a  duck,"  he  said, 
"And  nobody  will  notice  me. 
I  have  picked  a  fight  with  many 
But  not  one  gave  me  a  chance  to  shoot." 
He  sighed  and  then  continued: 
"Last  evening,  I  flirted 
With  the  standard  bearer  of  Garcia 
And  induced  her  to  run  away  with  me. 
Hiding  her  in  a  cabin  deep  in  the  mountains, 
I  despatched  a  messenger  to  Garcia 
Telling  him  of  what  I  had  done. 
He  sent  back  word 
That  he  was  eternally  obliged 
As  he  had  tried  for  long 
To  rid  himself  of  her. 
The  girl  is  now  in  love  with  me 
And  wants  to  work  for  Manuel 
And  says  she  would  be  happy 
If  I  will  beat  her  daily." 

[69] 


"You  do  not  wish  to  own  her?" 

I  could  not  forget 

The  Indian  girl  with  eyes  like  prancing  blacks. 

He  had  time  to  look  far  back  into  the  past. 
With  his  sombre  brown  eyes  before  he  answered. 
"A  man  can  have  a  woman  or  happiness — 
But  not  both." 

Days  later  came  the  news 

That  a  bold  bandit  had  robbed  the  paymaster 

Of  the  Sierra  Mining  Company. 

The  native  officials  were  full  of  promises 

For  the  capture  of  the  robber; 

Privately  they  yawned. 

Two  troopers  from  the  mining  village 

Eventually  wandered  over; 

They  visited  the  garrison, 

Smoked  corn-shuck  cigarettes, 

Chatted  and  flirted  with  the  senoritas ; 

Bye  and  bye  they  jogged  unhurriedly  away. 

Manuel  told  me  all  about  it. 

He  was  in  lofty  spirits; 

Not  so  drunk  as  usual 

And  with  a  hopeful  countenance, 

He  sprawled  upon  a  chair, 

Slowly  puffing  a  cigarette. 

[70] 


"When  the  paymaster's  hand  went  to  his  hip, 

I  almost  dropped  my  Colt  and  fled  into  the  cactus; 

He  pulled  out  a  roll  of  bills 

As  thick  as  a  burro's  belly. 

I  told  him  I  was  Manuel 

From  Santa  Natalia. 

It  should  be  only  a  question  of  time 

When  I  will  be  back  in  my  cozy  jail." 

A  week  passed,  which  in  Mexico 

Is  as  long  or  as  short  as  you  care  to  make  it. 

There  was  no  further  sign 

Of  any  official  interest  in  the  robbery. 

Manuel  was  getting  nervous; 

He  boldly  boasted  of  the  hold-up. 

His  listeners  would  laugh  good-naturedly, 

Not  raising  their  eyes  from  the  dominoes. 

I  prepared  to  leave  for  Vera  Cruz 
And  catch  a  vessel  back 
To  the  City  of  Worry  and  Scurry 
As  Manuel  called  New  York. 

He  heard  of  my  preparations 
And  came  to  see  me. 
"Leaving?"  he  slowly  said. 

"If  you  would  care  to  go  North  with  me, 
I  could  use  you,  Manuel; 

[71] 


And  I  promise  to  provide  you 
With  plenty  paseo." 

Manuel  shook  his  head  decisively 

And  faster  smoked  his  corn-shuck  cigarette. 

He  dug  into  his  faded  muddy  tunic 

Bringing  forth  a  musty  bag. 

"Here  is  the  result  of  the  hold-up. 

It  is  only  money — 

But  there  is  a  reward  for  its  return. 

If  I  brought  it  myself  to  the  Justice 

The  company  would  never  receive  it 

And  I  would  probably  be  murdered 

For  knowing  too  much." 

I  did  not  understand  and  told  him  so. 

"The  mining  company  is  Americano; 

You  tell  the  superintendent 

I  am  the  bandit; 

Tell  him  that  I  will  surrender; 

Then  see  the  comandante  and  let  him  know 

He  may  obtain  the  reward 

If  he  but  sentence  me." 

"Why  not  skip  away  with  the  money 
And  make  yourself  comfortable?" 

[72] 


His  features  hardened  as  he  said; 

"I  did  that  once, — never  again; 

Once  I  was  prisoner  and  slave 

To  a  woman  when  I  was  free; 

Back  in  jail  all  that  was  past  and  done  with; 

I  was  free  from  worry 

And  had  only  to  pass  each  day 

Dreaming  and  smoking  in  the  shade." 

I  was  struck  with  a  flash  of  memory. 
"Weren't  you  the  teller  in  the  Times  Square 
National?" 

"It  was  so,"  he  confessed. 

"Sing  Sing  spilled  me  out  two  years  ago; 

The  woman  got  it  all 

And  went  away  with  another, 

So  I  came  here  and  made  myself  a  home." 

.   .  .  That  evening  I  brought  the  soldiers 
To  make  the  arrest. 

A  few  days  later  for  the  last  time 
I  rode  out  of  Santa  Natalia. 
Before  the  jail 

Manuel  was  stretched  in  the  shade 
With  the  soldiers  of  the  garrison, 
More  one  of  them  than  prisoner. 

[73] 


"Look  me  up  in  New  York  some  time,"  I  greeted. 

"Never  again  New  York  for  me,"  he  said. 
UI  am  going  to  be  here 
Until  the  next  revolution — 
Then  I  will  break  into  jail  again." 

"Any  message  for  the  City 
Of  Hustle  and  Bustle?" 
I  bantered. 

"You  might  tell  that  poor  fool 

Who  married  my  woman 

That  I  feel  great  sorrow  for  him." 

A  soldier  spoke  in  Spanish  to  Manuel; 

He  rose  and  said  to  me : 

"It  is  time  to  go  for  our  paseo. 

We  will  go  to  the  cantina 

And  Juan  will  give  us  pulque; 

Then  we  shall  visit  Garcia 

And  go  around  to  our  other  friends 

For  enchiladas  and  cafe 

And  a  little  chat. 

Goodbye!" 


[74] 


Tracks 

With  a  boat  for  oxen 
A  youth  plowed  the  sea 
Until  his  beard  was  white 
As  the  fringe  of  the  waves; 
But  always  would  his  furrows 
Vanish  as  quickly  as  they  came. 

People  would  say, 
"You  fool! 

You  have  wasted  your  life 
In  doing  nothing." 

But  he  would  smile  and  reply, 
"No  one  can  make  tracks  in  the  sea 
Exactly  like  mine." 


[75] 


The  Surf 

The  waves  are  ardent  lovers 

Wooing  a  sweetheart 

With  tumultuous  kisses; 

When  she  rebuffs 

They  storm  with  unrelenting  fury 

Until  she  gives  herself  completely. 


[76] 


Efficiency 


America  counted  its  coins 
With  an  efficiency 
That  made  the  clink  reverberate 
Across  the  ocean. 

When  the  flower  of  Europe's  youth 

Became  a  forest  of  bayonets, 

And  the  rattle  of  Death 

Rolled  over  the  seas, 

We  stopped  our  counting  for  an  instant, 

Shrugged  our  shoulders, 

And  thumbed  our  coins  more  feverishly. 

And  then  we  saw  strange  spots  upon  the  gold 
We  poured  the  blood  into  the  scales 
And  balanced  it  with  sunbeams. 

Sunbeams  are  the  Ideals  of  Nature; 
They  are  fickle  things  and  hard  to  grasp, 
Yet  give  a  happy  warmth. 

America  counted  its  cartridges 
With  an  efficiency 

[77] 


That  made  the  world  reverberate 
With  wonder. 

The  sunbeams  from  a  newborn  Sun 
Tipped  the  bloody  scales  of  Justice. 

America  is  counting  coins  again 
With  an  efficiency 
That  makes  the  clink  reverberate 
Across  the  ocean. 

The  sunbeams  mingle  now  and  then 
With  the  glint  of  golden  metal: 
We  shall  count  with  greater  speed 
If  we  but  draw  the  shade: 
Sunbeams  are  good  for  the  soul 
But  hard  on  the  eye. 


[78] 


Balance 

A  certain  hod-carrier 

For  every  load  of  bricks 

Would  bear  a  hod  of  horseshoes 

On  the  other  shoulder. 

At  the  top  of  the  ladder 

He'd  cast  the  horseshoes 

To  the  ground  below 

And  descend  with  his  pair  of  hods 

Balanced  with  equal  emptiness  .  . 

Rhymes  at  times 
Are  like  that, 


[79] 


Usage 


I  gave  some  money  to  a  rich  man 
And  he  put  it  in  his  bank; 
I  gave  some  money  to  a  tattered  beggar 
And  he  bought  more  rags  for  his  back. 


[so] 


Headings 

Newsboys  seldom  read  below  the  headlines: 
Tombstones  reach  no  further  than  the  grass, 


[81] 


Gifts    , 

The  stars  offered  a  choice  of  gifts — 
A  jewel,   a  tree,  or  a  pretty  child. 

"I'll   take   the   jewel,"   said   the   farmer, 
"For  it  will  shine  forever 
And  there   are  many  trees  and  children 
But  few  priceless  stones  in  the  world." 

'Til  take  the  tree,"  said  the  city  man, 

uTo  plant  before  my  door  and  give  me  shade; 

It  will  grow  like  ai  pretty  child 

And  yet  not  show  ingratitude." 

"We'll  take  the  child," 

Said  the  lonely  pair; 

"For  it  will  make  one  of  three 

Where  two  made  nothing  before." 


[82] 


Intelligence 


When  the  ancients  planned  a  voyage  o'er  the  seas 
They  consulted  the  oracle   at  Delphi   .  .  . 

Mrs.  Fitz  lifted  the  receiver: 

"Hello,  is  this  the  Weather  Bureau? 

We   are  planning   a   picnic   for   the   orphans; 

Tell  me,  if  you  please, 

What  sort  of  day  next  Saturday  will  be?" 


[83] 


Sky  in  a  City 


The  business  man  striking  his  monthly  balance 

Looked  through  his  office  window — 

The  sky  is  a  bank 

And  the  stars  are  its  fortune. 

The  poet  on  the  roof  of  his  boarding  house — 
The  sky  is  a  garden  of  phosphorescent  flowers. 

Sitting  on  a  park  bench  with  her  gentleman  friend, 

Mamie  said: 

"Look  at  the  bunch  of  stars  in  the  sky. 

Ain't  it  awful  pretty!" 


[84] 


The  Pervert 

He  walked  home  from  the  office 
Through  the  park 
And  was  seized  with  a  perversion. 
He  buried  his  face  deep 
In  the  buds  of  a  rose-bush 
Inhaling  the  fragrance  with  rapture. 
Quickly  he  recovered  himself 
And  glanced  around  covertly. 

A  short  distance  away 
A  scowling  policeman 
Twirled  his  club  threateningly. 


[85] 


The  Tattler 

As  the  city's  white  day 
Shades  into  the  mauve  twilight 
A  swallow  skims  across  the  cornice 
Of  my  cage. 

Perhaps  he  is  a  woodland  scout 
Hastening  back  with  the  news 
That  another  tree  has  been  planted 
Upon  the  edge  of  our  pavement. 
How  the  leaves  in  the  forest  this  night 
Will  rustle  with  gossip ! 


[86] 


Tactics 

"Suppose  I  am  behind? 

Do  I  spend  it  on  myself? 

I  haven't   a   saucer  in   the  house 

And  the  kids — your  kids— 

The  toes  are  sticking  thru  their  shoes! 

If  I  don't  get  ten  dollars 

You'll  get  no  supper  to-night!" 

Screams  Jane. 

"Where  do  I  get  the  money? 

Can  I  grind  it  out  like  a  sausage  machine? 

It's  ten  for  this  and  ten  for  that 

And   now   another  ten. 

Damn  it!     You'll  make  me  a  thief. 

Here's  five;  that's  all  I  got!" 

John  roars. 

Jane  snatches  as  John  stalks  out 
Slamming  the  door  behind  him. 

On  his  way  to  the  station  John  chuckles, 
"Fooled  the  old  lady  out  of  five." 
Foxy  boy  that  John. 

[87] 


Across  the  dumbwaiter 
Jane  boasts  to  Mrs.  Shultz 
How  she  wheedled  five  from  John 
When  she  only  needed  three. 


[88] 


Birdlings 


An  out-of-town  swallow  culling  crumbs 
From  urban  cobble-stones — 
A  sophisticated  sparrow  pecking  worms 
Off  a  luscious  landscape. 

A  country  girl  with  wistful  eyes 
Before  a  shop  of  artificial  flowers — 
A  city  maid  talking  love 
To  a  dainty  dandelion. 


[89] 


The  Smiths 

The  gas  flame  seemed  to  be  fanning  itself — 

The  kitchen  was  so  hot. 

Mrs.  Smith  left  the  steaming  stove 

To  cool  her  moist  cheek  at  the  fire-escape  window; 

Surprised  to  see  that  the  sky  was  still  there 

She  wondered  if  there  were  Smiths  on  each  soft 

star. 

Mr.  Smith  shouted  from  the  dining  room: 
"The  soup  was  good,  Ann;  I'm  ready  for  the 

meat!" 


[90] 


